


First, Second, Fourth, Fiftieth

by Asher_Ephraim



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Addiction, Drug Addiction, Ficlet, Heroin, Kylux Cantina, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 11:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14424132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/pseuds/Asher_Ephraim
Summary: Fill for the following prompt from Kylux Cantina's Addiction Week:"Trying spice for the first time. And the second, third, fourth, and fifth times."





	First, Second, Fourth, Fiftieth

**First time:**

Kylo doesn’t really mind. Hux has been close to buckling under the stress of overwork. The man deserves a break every now and then. Kylo has his own outlets: sex and rage.  
         He’d thought Armitage Hux’s only private indulgences were sex and the occasional top-shelf brandy. It turns out that was an incomplete picture.  
         The general likes painkillers.  
         Really likes painkillers. But he’s never gone this far before.  
         Kylo looks over the items on the desk: vial, alcohol swabs, tourniquet, syringe. At least it’s medical grade, he tells himself. He turns to check on Hux, laid out on the bed, dazed smile on his face. Kylo has never seen him this relaxed.  
         “How are you feeling?” he manages, hoping he sounds steadier than he feels.  
         The response is delayed, each breathless word spaced apart for maximum impact. “Oh. Kylo. Very well indeed.”  
         Hux rarely calls him “Kylo” at all, and when he does, it’s usually in the throes of orgasm.

 

**Second time:**

It’s alright. Surely it’s alright.  
         Hux looks up at him, his pupils fully dilated, having trouble focusing even though Kylo is standing just beside his chair. The general reaches out a hand and takes Kylo’s. “Fuck me,” he insists quietly, interlacing their fingers.  
         Kylo is about to protest, to say something about how Hux is heavily under the influence of diamorphine, but then Hux pulls him down into a kiss.  
         In their two years together, they’ve never kissed like this. It’s slow and unhurried. Kylo could even be forgiven for thinking it’s loving. Especially considering the way their interactions usually go: suddenly, explosively, and often against or across the nearest piece of furniture.  
         He gives in to Hux the way the general already has—to him, to the drug.

 

**Fourth time:**

Is it a habit now? Because this is the third week in a row that Hux has done this the evening before his day off.  
         “Are you alright?” Kylo finally dares to ask.  
         “I’m bloody fine, Ren,” Hux snaps, sounding affronted. He holds the syringe upright and flicks it expertly.  
         Kylo tries not to sigh too loudly. “Is this getting to be a problem?”  
         “If _you_ have a problem with it, you’re free to leave my quarters and never return.”  
         “Oh,” the knight says aloud without intending to. It sounds like the air has been punched out of him. Because if his options are remaining beside Hux as he falls down this hole and being distant while the same thing happens elsewhere, he knows exactly which he’s going to take. “I don’t want to leave.”  
         “Then shut up and hand me the tourniquet,” the general orders.  
         Kylo obeys.

 

**Fiftieth time:**

Hux doesn’t bother being surreptitious about it anymore. Every evening now, the instant he finishes a quick dinner consisting of the bare minimum nutritional content, he sets his kit out and goes about the business of injecting. He says he doesn’t sleep well without it, that he’s never been as well rested in the morning.  
         He’s lost weight, about five kilos. He hardly trains anymore. His priorities have shifted.  
         They don’t have sex these days except when Hux is high. Most of the time he isn’t even aroused during the act, he just wants Kylo to fuck him and get off. The knight complies, using Hux’s pliant, relaxed body and imagining there’s more to it.  
         There used to be, perhaps. Or there might have eventually been.  
         At least Hux lets him call him “Armitage”—and in turns calls his lover “Kylo” more often than not. There’s a new familiarity between them as Hux has let his guard down entirely. When they first met, even when they began tumbling into bed together, the general’s mind was off limits. Now Kylo can come and go among Hux’s thoughts as he pleases. But now he no longer wants to.  
         Armitage thinks about work when he’s on the clock and getting high when he isn’t. And once he’s spaced out, his thoughts are meandering, meaningless. It’s like mind-reading a person in the midst of a bizarre dream.

 


End file.
